A Yuletide Carol
by The Potter Monitor
Summary: A little holiday treat for all of you. And a reminder that no matter how unrepentant a man may seem, there is always hope for change. Not entirely cannon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**A Yuletide Carol**

**Author's Note: **We wish you a merry Christmas…and a happy new year.

**Chapter One**

Dumbledore was dead to begin with. There could be no doubt about that. His murder had been witnessed by the boy-who-lived himself, his body seen by McGonagall, over a hundred students and the Minister of Magic himself. Old Dumbledore was as dead as Crumple-Horned Snorcack (unless of course you pressed the matter with a certain young Ravenclaw girl who was determined to prove the existence of such a creature.)

Of the fact that Dumbledore was dead Severus Snape was unequivocally certain—he had killed him himself not even a year prior. Most of the wizarding world knew this, and hated him for it; though truth be told Snape and the old man himself had been partners in this crime. While much of the world mourned their beloved headmaster they hated their new one, for everything that he had done as well as everything that he seemed to be.

Severus Snape was a cold, bitter man who seemed much older than his years. He had just barely reached forty, but carried the weight of many more years. He had sallow skin and a long hooked nose, and greasy black hair that reached to his shoulders. His eyes were as black as writing ink and as cold as ice.

He had taken up residence in the old man's quarters several months before but had done little to change the space since his death. On the well-polished and possibly ancient old desk there was an assortment of whirling silver gadgets—an empty cage stood in one corner, unmoved though its occupant had disappeared the day of Dumbledore's funeral and not returned since. On the wall there were dozens of paintings of headmasters, many of them nodding off as evening settled closer to dusk.

Dumbledore's portrait was watching him keenly as he wrapped up his business for the evening. Snape glanced up at it, and when the portrait saw that he was looking quickly busied itself with doing something else, out of frame. Snape sniffed, looking back at the letter he was writing. He had barely set pen to ink when there was a loud rapping at his door.

Snape's head shot up, his hand reflexively going toward his wand. When it opened a crack and a Death Eater—someone whose name he hadn't learnt yet—peeked in, he made an impatient gesture and the door opened wider, allowing the man to enter along with the young man he had in tow.

He glanced down his nose at the boy. "Mister Longbottom," he said slowly and succinctly. "What have you done now? You are aware that any further insubordinations and I shall have to report you to the Ministry…you really are becoming quite unstable…."

"I didn't do anything!" shouted Neville defiantly, struggling at the Death Eater's iron grip on his robes. Snape made a small gesture and the man released him. Neville straightened his robes, dusting them off as if they'd been infected by the man's touch.

"This boy was caught defacing the common room of his dormitory," said the Death Eater.

"What are you talking about?" said Neville. "I didn't do anything!"

"You put up decorations that are strictly against school code," the Death Eater growled.

"But it's Christmas! You can't punish me for putting up a tree and some tinsel!" he said. He was glancing from the Death Eater to Snape and back again, as if certain that somehow between the two of them somebody was going to buy his story. But it wasn't to be the case.

"You know what I decreed," said Snape darkly. "All recognition of the holiday has been banned from Hogwarts. This expressly forbids your…tree and tinsel."

"But…but sir!" said Neville.

"What do you want to do with him?" said the Death Eater, grabbing once more at his collar. Snape took a deep breath, and then glanced at the pleading in the boy's eyes. He thought of him suddenly, over the past several years. A fairly harmless boy, although he had grown troublesome ever since the term began. With a sigh Snape motioned for the both of them to leave, stating, "There's no reason to punish him so long as he doesn't do it again. And make sure that all common rooms are examined for the smallest trace of anything sparkly, colorful, or tied up in a big pretty bow."

The pair was whisked out of his office and, with a sigh, Snape leaned back in his chair. "Dumbledore, what am I to do?" he said.

"Generally doing your best counts for something," said the portrait opposite him. Snape ignored this comment and continued on with his work, scribbling out a missive and putting it aside to send later. He was just about to start another letter when there was a second knock at his door.

Growing more and more impatient, he growled out a quick 'who is it' as the door opened to reveal the pale, drawn face of Draco Malfoy. Now here was a singular case—though the boy was from a wealthy family, and of noble blood, Snape himself had had more occasion to oversee his wellbeing than the boy's own father, who was a long time follower of the Dark Lord. But he had no feelings of affection for him—except, perhaps, in that he wished the boy to do well in life, especially as it reflected back on him.

"What can I help you with?" said Snape.

"Uhm…sir?" said the boy. He was glancing down at his shoes. "I wanted to ask your permission, sir. For a gathering of sorts. A…a meeting to…to…discuss the coming of the New Year."

Snape paused in writing his second letter, thinking for a moment. "A meeting?" he asked.

"Y-yes, sir," said Draco.

"And will there be food and drink at this meeting?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Draco.

"And music? And perhaps dancing and games?"

"Uhm…yes, sir."

"Then perhaps rather than call it a meeting you call it a party…although I'm certain you know that such things are no longer allowed in this school."

"Professor, I…"

"NO!" Snape roared. Draco stood suddenly at attention, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Snape picked up his quill and started writing again. "There will be no parties, and if I hear of any every single person in attendance will face expulsion from my school. Are we understood Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco nodded, and turning very quickly he left Snape alone. The hour grew late as he finished up his business and turned from his office, making his way through the empty corridors and toward the owlery, which overlooked the expanse of land that the castle set on and the village far below.

He was tired as he captured one of the few owls who had not left for her evening meal. And so it was that he was not certain if it was dream or reality when he first heard a whisper at the corner of his consciousness. It sounded so family that he thought it must his imagination, or some form of waking dream…perhaps even a student playing tricks on him, as they were so often prone to do.

But the voice grew louder, and though it made no sense at all he become suddenly certain that it was Dumbledore's. He turned quickly from the owlery, and as he approached the door was certain he saw the image of the old man's face ingrained in the wood of the door. But when he approached it there was nothing there…not even a trace of magic to tell him that some form of spell was being used to play with his thoughts.

He shook his head—he was tired, and worked up because of all the student's protests about Christmas. Worked up too because it had been too long since he heard word of the whereabouts of Potter and his tagalong friends, who were off on some task he wished he knew more about.

So he left his office for the night and made his way to his quarters. The room was dark, despite the fireplace that sat at the center of the room. He did not light it, by magical or any other means, as he changed into his long Emerald green dressing robe and sat with a small glass of Firewhisky on his sofa.

"Surely I've gone mad, or there is something else at work," he said to himself, thinking again of what had happened.

But there it was again…a whisper and a rattle. He sat up straight, glancing about the small room for something—anything—that could prove that this all wasn't just in his head.

And there he was, standing at the door as casually as he might have when he was alive, but bound in heavy locks and chains nonetheless. The chains rattled and clanked as Dumbledore moved forward, screeching metal on metal as he came closer to Snape.

"I am quite disappointed in you, Severus, though the blame for much of this rests with me," he said, folding his hands together (over a heavy iron padlock) across his midsection.

"Wh-what magic is this?" said Snape, hand gripping his wand. He thrust it out in front of him. "R-riddiculus!" he shouted. When nothing happened to the image he tried it again, until the old man waved his hand.

"I'm quite sorry, Severus, but I am no boggart. Nor am I a mere figment of your imagination. A phantom if you will…"

"A ghost? But that is impossible, Albus, a man of your ability…"

"Ability does not equate to happiness. May I have a seat?" Severus stared at Dumbledore, or at the ghost of the man that had once been, as uninvited he sat down. He waved his hand and flames shot up in the fireplace, bright scarlet and gold. "Much better. A little light wouldn't hurt to bring the color into your skin, Severus."

"And what concern have you with my skin?"

"I may be old but I like to think that until the day I died I was fastidious in my appearance…" said Dumbledore.

"What I mean…what I'm trying to say, impossible as it is, is that…Albus, quite frankly, you're dead."

"Ah, and there's the sticking point," said Dumbledore. "I am dead, quite dead, as you well know."

"But…how…"

"The how if it is not as important as the why." Dumbledore lifted up one of the thicker chains that were binding him. "You see these, Severus, these chains which bind me so solidly to this world. They each represent something that I left undone…in some cases because I assumed it was not my place, in others because…alas…I deemed them unimportant."

"Things you left undone? And what do these things have to do with me?" asked Snape.

"Ah, Severus. You are truly a great man…or, at least, you could be great if only led to see what the actions of your past have done. No—" he stopped him, putting his hand up. "I don't mean your involvement in the wars—or not just that, at the very least. I have come to tell you, Severus, that you will be visited by ghosts."

Dumbledore stood. "At the stroke of twelve expect the ghosts of Christmas Past. At one, expect the ghost of Christmas Present. And at two the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Now it is time for me to go…I have other appointments, tonight, which I hope you will learn about in due time."

His chains rattled as he made his way from the room. Snape stood staring at the door, which the ghost of Dumbledore had smoothly disappeared through, and felt his skin begin to crawl. "Oh, Bother," he said in annoyance. And going to his bedroom he turned down the blankets and laid himself down to sleep—in hopes that all would reveal itself an impossible dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Yuletide Carol**

**Chapter Two**

Severus turned over in his bed, mind restless and racing with everything that had occurred in the last hour. His covers were pulled up straight to his neck, the curtains pulled tightly to block out the light of the full moon. He barely noticed when his coverlet began to shift, only reaching down to yank it back up to his throat.

Even more persistently the cover was yanked down until it pooled around his calves. In his still sleeping daze he hardly noticed the youthful snicker…until an all-too familiar voice clucked through the darkness. "Told you he'd wear his skivvies to bed. Pay up Sirius," said the voice of James Potter.

Severus yanked his blankets even more firmly up to his neck, looking wildly at the three figures standing around him. There was James Potter, as he'd looked when he was still a somewhat gawky boy of fourteen—the embodiment of everything he had ever hated in his life. Standing right next to him was Sirius, whose long dark hair was constantly falling in his eyes and even from their earliest years of school giving him the air of some kind of romantic hero…to girls at least. Severus had always thought it made him look stupid.

The trio was rounded out by Remus, who even in his youth had been the calm and contemplative of the group—the one, in fact, that Severus had minded least of the infamous Marauders, though in the end it was Peter Pettigrew that had sold out his friends.

"What is this?" he snapped violently. "What kind of game is this?"

"No game. You never were good at those anyway. Hey Sirius, remember when old Severus here got beaned by a bludger trying out for the Slytherin team?"

"Yeah, and you did much better when that walrus Victor Crabbe knocked you off your broom in your first match?" snickered Sirius.

"I never saw you on a broomstick," said James with a sneer.

At this moment Remus coughed, and suddenly all three boys turned their attention back on Severus. "Right, sorry," he said. "We are the Ghosts of Christmas Past. We've come to show you your…past…Christmases," he said.

"Oh, that was really helpful. Really informative Mooney."

"Shut up Prongs!" said Sirius. "I mean, this is like our first ghostly haunting thing. It's not like we've done it before."

Severus was watching the proceedings with growing agitation. Obviously whoever was doing this to him not only wanted him to suffer, but knew his past better than most. There was only one person he could think of who could possibly want him to hurt and who had the sort of ammunition to pull off a stunt of this nature. His hands knotted together as he suddenly and vividly imagined what it would be like to get his fingers around the throat of that scrawny little brat, and his fingers were in fact clutching the sheets when he realized that the ghosts were all staring at him.

"So…let's get going," said Sirius simply.

"What?" said Severus.

"We've got a lot to do and, like, an hour to do it," he replied. "Come on." The boy reached out and twisted his hand around Severus's arm, pulling him toward the window. The other boys were crowding around so that it almost seemed there was no possible escape. Finally Sirius thrust open the window and, pulling him along, leapt out into the space.

He didn't scream—but his eyes were closed tightly for several moments before he realized that they had not hit the ground and were flying far above the ground. "Where are we going?" he said.

"To your past. Weren't you listening?" said Sirius.

"And why should I see my past?" he muttered bitterly.

Sirius shrugged, without ever letting go of him, and when it seemed like they had traveled a league they set down outside a rundown little house in what looked to be the worst stretch of an already ratty part of town.

"This? What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Come on, Severus." Sirius pulled him forward until he passed through the wall of the house, and suddenly the four of them were standing in a shabby living room. Off to one side a small fire was burning. A woman stood in the next room. Her face might once have been proud but now she looked only tired. A young boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, sat in the living room playing with a wooden train set.

"But that's me," said Severus, paling.

"Of course it is dunderhead," said Sirius. "We said we were going into your past didn't we?"

"But…" Severus began to protest but, unable to find the words, fell silent. He watched at the woman cooked and the boy…himself…played, and suddenly the door to the adjoining room crashed open and a heavyset man entered.

He blinked blearily at the boy. "What'd you do?" he bellowed after a long moment. The boy on the floor froze suddenly, fearfully, as the woman in the kitchen stopped what she was doing.

"N-nothing!" the boy cried out, trying to shove the train down the long front of the black robes he was wearing. But it was too late. The man reached forward and yanked it out of his hand, snorting. Where the paint had been a happy yellow it was now a neon green—a small but obvious trick.

"Nothing! You've been doing magic! You know how I feel about that kind of trash in this house! A man is master in his house…you don't defy me, boy!" he yanked the young Severus to his feet and before the woman could cross the room had hit him once across the face. Then he stormed to the tree, picking up the only present that lay beneath it.

It was a small thing—nothing much.

"I remember this," said Severus solemnly. He watched his younger self struggle not to burst into tears as his father callously threw the present, still wrapped, into the fire, and left the house to make his way to the local pub.

His mother gathered him up closely, and began to sing. All three boys stopped when they heard Mrs. Severus's voice shaking as she tried to sing a simple carol, and ignoring the dinner in the kitchen she kissed her son on the forehead. "We'll have a happy Christmas together, sweetheart. As long as we've got each other we'll have a happy Christmas."

"Your mum was…really nice," said Sirius.

"Yes." Severus watched her for a moment. She looked much like him, though there was something soft about the way she looked when she held him that he almost thought he was looking at somebody else's family portrait. "She was."

"Do you miss her?" said James. "My mum and dad both died when I was in school you know. But they were kind of old."

Severus looked at this young version of James. "I guess I hardly remember her," he said. "She died before I started school."

"The year before," affirmed Sirius. "Right around the time you met Lily." The space around them shifted and suddenly they were looking at another Christmas. There was no tree this time, nothing even to indicate that it was Christmas except for a small wreath hung on the door.

Severus's younger self was sitting alone on the sofa, in a black suit that had been made for one of his cousins and, as such, didn't fit him well at all. His skin was pale, his hair greasy. The only thing different was that his eyes were ringed in pink where he had spent the better part of the past few days crying. His father was nowhere to be seen and after a long moment the boy crossed to the door. He picked up the wreath and stared at it.

"There's no Christmas anymore," he said angrily. "Not now. Not ever again." He threw it in the trash, and was just wiggling out of his suit when there was a timid knock at the door. He paused, waiting for a heartbeat before it came again.

"Now I wonder who that was?" said James.

The young Severus crossed the room and pulled open the door, revealing a young girl whose flaming red hair had been neatly bound in a braid.

"I told you not to come here!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry," said Lily, cringing. "But your dad's not home. I saw him leave. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, Sev."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said.

Lily stared at him for a long moment before brushing past him and into the living room. She immediately noticed the wreath in the trashcan and pulled it out, brushing the fronds so that they stood out proudly once again. "Why'd you do that?" she asked.

"Because my mom said it would always be Christmas if the two of us were together," he said. "And…well…now she's gone," the young Severus admitted.

"I was a sentimental boy," Severus hissed when he saw the stoic look on Sirius' face.

"That's okay. I wish I loved my mom that much. She was a hag. Mine I mean."

"Shut up Sirius," said James.

Lily hung the wreath back up, then crossed to the younger Severus and laid her head on his shoulder. "You know you have me. I'll always make sure you have Christmas, Sevvie."

The four of them were still watching the scene as it began to fade and they were flying again. "Why show me that?" said Severus. "I thought I was supposed to see what I had done…are you telling me I had a part in that?"

"We're not finished," said Sirius impatiently. "All in good time."

They set foot on snowy ground, and without even having to look up at the castle that loomed over them Severus realized they were at Hogwarts. The landscape was empty for a long moment and Severus thought perhaps he'd been returned home when a girl burst forward from the castle, shrieking in laughter. Her red hair shone brightly as she ran, and a ball of white snow exploded around her.

"Severus! Help me!" she giggled as she slid to a stop underneath a large window that was open just enough for a person inside to lean out.

Severus did so. He glanced at the group that was chasing down Lily. "I'm sorry…I'm busy," he said reluctantly.

"Oh come on!" she squealed, taking his hand and yanking him through the window so he tumbled into a snow bank.

"This was our third year. Lily's parents let her spend the holiday here at school so they could visit relatives on the continent. I never went home for the holidays…summers with my father were enough."

The younger Severus was laughing as he pelted Lily with a handful of snow, and a handful consisting of Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and even a Slytherin or two began a massive snowball fight.

"The Slug Club, huh? At least, the beginnings of it." James was watching the proceedings coolly.

Severus was smiling, a rare occurrence as far as anybody was concerned. "This was one of the best holidays I ever had. Lily and I spent most of it talking…just like when we first met. I learned more about her in a week than I ever learnt about anybody in a lifetime."

"It's time we go," said James after a long moment, taking Severus by the arm.

"Where? Oh no," he said, paling. "I know where you're taking me. I don't want…I can't see it."

James said nothing, and once again they found themselves transported in time. Once again the ground was covered in snow, though this wasn't the fresh-fallen covering of the previous scene. It was dirty and rocky, and a fifteen-year old Lily was walking along the edge of the Lake with Severus beside her. Her face was solemn now.

"You called me a mudblood. Again."

"I know, Lily, I…"

"You're sorry? How many times can you be sorry? Obviously you think it." She lifted her head up, eyes glistening with tears. "Sev, how could you?"

"I…Lily, surely you can understand…it's true, isn't it?" he said wildly. "Wizards are a better kind than muggles…pure blood has more merit than blood tainted by muggle blood."

"So I'm worthless because my mother and father were ordinary?"

"No, Lily…you're…you're amazing because you aren't ordinary. You escaped it, don't you see?" he said, taking her hands between his. "Just…look Lily, just look. Our kind have so much power…our lives are longer, immortality is practically in our grasp…just like this Dark Lord has been saying…"

Lily pulled away from him. "This Dark Lord? Your Dark Lord you mean? I don't want any part of it." Lily reached down and pulled a small silver ring from her finger, throwing it at the snow at Severus's feet. "Forget it all, Severus. Forget that we were friends…and that I ever said I loved you. I can't do this with you. I know what I'm worth…I just don't know what you're worth anymore."

Severus shouted after her as she ran away, and when he saw that his words could do nothing turned to shout useless as the younger version of himself that stood abandoned in the snow. "Why show me this?" he said finally.

James sighed, clapping Severus on the back. "You needed to see just what it was that drove her away in the first place."

Severus shook his head. "No. No! It wasn't that…you…you were a part…"

"Even if she hadn't had feelings for me…and I can't tell you if she did, then, or if that came later…but even if she hadn't could she have been with somebody who thought she was less of a person because of who her parents were?"

The four of them stood there for a long moment before Severus felt himself being pulled away again. He half-expected to turn up once again on the grounds of Hogwarts, but instead he was standing in front of a small suburban home that seemed somehow familiar to him.

"What is this place? I've never seen it before."

"Come on in," said Remus. "I think there's somebody you ought to see."

Together they made their way through the walls and into a small room that had been crammed with shining packages from top to bottom. A young couple sat side-by-side, a little boy of five or so between them.

"I recognize her," said Severus suddenly. "Lily's sister…"

Remus nodded. "Yes. And that is her son."

Severus glanced over at the little boy, who was tearing the paper from a giant box.

"He looks content," he said.

"No," said Remus with a shake of his head. "Not that boy. Him."

Severus turned his gaze to where Remus was pointing. He would never have seen the little boy had he not been pointed out to him. He was sitting at the very back of the room, a small package in his lap. It had already been torn open, and he was holding a pair of worn socks. His eyes were shining with jealousy as he glanced at the trio on the couch.

"His cousin?" he asked.

Remus nodded.

"He wishes he had gotten a proper gift, I suppose…" said Severus, though he was troubled by the expression in the boy's eyes.

"I think," said Remus slowly, "that he would be perfectly happy if he could be part of that family…if his aunt and uncle would show him half the love they showed their own son."

Severus felt a tightening in his chest. "And that just proves everything I thought about the boy. He lacked attention and so he seeks it…"

At that moment he saw a movement from the corner of his eyes. James and Sirius had both lunged toward him, but backed off when Remus raised his hand warningly. "That's enough. We have more to see."

They moved again, to another Christmas in the same room, to Severus's eyes five years later. Harry was once again on the outskirts of the family celebration, moving back and forth through the house at the order's of his uncle, who barked at him with not a single moment of remorse.

In the kitchen a tray of colorful cookies had been laid out. Harry reached for one when his aunt and uncle's backs were turned, scarfing it down before anybody could see. Unfortunately he hadn't been quick enough. His cousin saw, and gleefully darted over than it seemed his rotund body could carry him and caught Harry's hand before he could wipe away the crumbs.

"Mum! Dad! Harry's been sneaking again!"

"You little prat!" Uncle Vernon wheeled around, his face a deep red. "How dare you steal from my kitchen! I'll teach you some manners!" he came over to Harry and yanked him up by the hair of his head, and then without seeming to care what or how the little boy felt thrashed his soundly. By the time Harry had been sent, howling, to his cupboard bedroom, and Dudley shooed away with his brand new game system, Vernon had turned purple.

"Year after year that boy grows more and more of a problem."

Petunia flushed. "You do…I mean, you realize that when he turns eleven we'll have…others…to deal with?"

"Not on my watch!" hissed Vernon. "I won't have one of…one of…_those…_those people under my proof! Filthy, disgusting kind. It's not right!"

"Does he mean wizards?" asked Severus incredulously.

Remus glanced over at him. "Prejudice isn't solely ours to practice," he said. "Come on, it's time to get you back to your chambers. The second ghost will come for you soon."


	3. Chapter 3

**A Yuletide Carol**

**Chapter Three: Yule Present**

Severus woke with a start in his bed. The sweat was still clinging to his brow as he shot up from under the covers to go toward the window, where he looked out on the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts. So…it had been a dream after all. Or had it? He looked at the ancient clock that stood in the corner, noting the time just as a loud ringing pronounced the time as one o'clock.

He had hardly begun to wonder if a second spirit was soon to appear when he heard a loud crashing come from the room beside his—a chamber that was usually empty, and led to the outside corridor that twined it's way around to the office of Headmaster. He picked up his wand, and cautiously pulled open the door.

"Ho ho!" cried out a familiar voice. Severus stayed his wand as he beheld the half-giant Hagrid sitting in a large golden-colored chamber that he hadn't seen before. There was a wide array of fruits and meats—a feast that even the Hogwarts house-elves would be hard-pressed to come up with on their own.

"What are you doing in here?" Severus asked.

"I am the Spirit o' Christmas Present…for tonight at least," he said with a wink. "And I'm here ta' show ya' a few things. The headmaster asked me ta' do it, so I'll be needin' ya' to come with me." He said. The chair he was sitting in moaned as he got to his feet. He towered a good four feet over Severus, and he put his hand down on his shoulder (almost sending him buckling to his knees.)

"Allright," said Severus. At this point he was hardly surprised by anything, anymore. He had already witnessed the ghost of the man he had killed not a few short months before, as well as come face to face with the three teenage versions of his boyhood tormentors. Now he faced Hagrid, who he had not treated kindly over the long term they had known one another, and who he was certain was not dead…not in the least.

They disapparated, landing in the middle of the Room of Requirement. Quite a few students had gathered around, and a low humming of Christmas music just low enough that it wouldn't leave the room was playing. Severus saw quite clearly that in attendance were Neville Longbottom, the remaining Weasley girl, and Draco—who, though not conversing with many other students at the party also did not seem entirely unwelcome.

"What's surprising about this?" he said. "So the students defy my orders? I half expected it."

"That ain't all," said Hagrid. "Jus' look."

The students were milling around. Neville appeared to be the leader, if their misfit group could be labeled as having one. A young girl with long, wavy blonde hair was standing with Draco, staring at him with owlish blue eyes. Severus thought vaguely that he recognized, as having some involvement with Potter and his bunch in the past.

"Tha's Luna Lovegood," said Hagrid as if in answer to his unasked question. "Ravenclaw. Smart as a whip."

Severus made a sound of dissension, watching her for a long moment. Neville was now in a hurried conversation on his side of the room, and after a long moment announced, "We've decided to play a game! Charades!"

There was a mingled chorus of excited laughter and groans. Draco smiled politely as Luna invited him onto her team, and he reluctantly took his place with a handful of other students, mostly Ravenclaw, who just as enthusiastically let him sit down with them.

"All right. We'll draw who goes first," said Neville. He stuck out a handful of sticks to Draco's group and they all drew straws. It was the blonde girl who ended up short. Neville handed a worn-out sock to her and she pulled out a slip of paper, staring at it for a moment with a half-smile on her face.

"All right," said Neville. "You have a minute to act out the person, place or thing that the other team gives you. If your team gets it right you get a point. No talking and no spelling things out with magic…"

Luna smiled and let Neville reach up, placing a tongue-tying charm on her lips so that she was unable to speak until her minute was up. She pulled a slip of paper from the sock, and a mischievous twinkle lit up in her eyes. She took a step back, pulling her wand out.

First she conjured up a colorful Christmas tree, which she placed gently before her. Then, wielding her wand like a sword, she began to slash at it—pieces flew off, landing all over the floor. Then, as a final blow, she conjured a small smoky mark to float over the remains.

"Death Eaters?" said one boy.

"Death Eaters who hate Christmas?" chuckled another.

Draco smiled. "I think she means our dear Headmaster," he said.

"He got it! Point for the B team," said Ginny, clapping her hands.

All the students were laughing now. Ginny leaned forward toward Draco, her brows furrowed. "So you mean to tell me you're on our side now?" she said.

Draco shrugged, placing his hand into Luna's as she came back to sit beside him. "I guess…I guess I am."

"How can this be?" asked Severus as he stared at the boy, who he thought he had known so well, as he changed his allegiance at the drop of a feather.

"All men can be good, jus' as they can be bad. An' it ain' too hard to change sides when the need suits ye'," said Hagrid. "Maybe I figger he jus' thought the other side'd win, after all. And maybe he jes' needed a reason to turn good," he added.

At that comment Severus looked once again at the joined hands of the two.

"Right then," said Hagrid. "We got more te' see. My Christmas morn' I'll be me…but I won' be me anymore, you know?"

Severus wasn't certain that he did know, but when he felt Hagrid's hand on his shoulder he had already given up on understanding. He thought about what he had seen. Draco had never seemed the sort to be particularly strong…he hadn't been able to hold up under the pressure of his part in Dumbledore's murder by any means.

But somehow the boy had now found the strength to do something that could possibly get him killed, were it ever revealed to the Dark Lord.

They reappeared at the edge of an abandoned graveyard, which Snape recognized immediately. He had been there but once before, soon after she had died. And so he immediately realized he had happened upon Godric's Hollow.

"Why here to this empty graveyard?" he asked.

Hagrid put his fingers to his lips. After only a few moments a man and a woman came along…a man and woman that he immediately recognized, under the heavy magic that concealed them, as none other than Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They wandered through the stones, looking at each in turn. Severus almost felt the urge to call them over, as he knew the marker that lay at his feet. But he could only wait until, catching sight of the last name on the stone, Hermione called Harry over to see it.

He could scarcely listen to their conversation. He instead followed the both of them when they returned back into the forest from which they'd come. Severus felt his skin prickle as he passed by an ancient house. Harry himself looked over toward it, and then hurried forward, as if he'd had some warning that danger lurked within.

"Come on, Ron needs to be seen to," he said.

Hermione nodded, and they plunged deeper into the darkness with Severus and Hagrid at their heels. They finally came upon a small camp, where beside a fire a boy was laying. His skin was pale white, and he looked as if he were close to death. Hermione knelt down beside him, placing her hand on his face.

"You need to eat something, Ron. We got food from the village," she said.

"Yeah. Nicked it right and proper," said Harry, trying to force some false cheer into his voice. "You'd better eat."

"Too…tired. Sick…" moaned Ron. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances, and despite his protests Harry finally managed to get Ron into a sitting position.

"All right," said Harry, laying out their bounty from the trip into the town. There was a loaf of bread, some fruit and a little cheese, all of which had been lifted from a kitchen at the edge of the forest.

"To Dumbledore," said Harry and Hermione together.

"And to Snape," Harry added. "The reason we're here today. The reason we have a chance in all this."

"The reason we're here indeed!" snorted Hermione. "I don't care what you think you know…that man is a monster! What he did is…is…"

"What he did was what he had to do. Just like we're here doing this," said Harry.

:"It's not exactly the same, now is it?" said Hermione. "There is no other man as cowardly…as prejudiced as he is!" she said. She tore off a hunk of bread and began picking it to shreds, eating the crumbs.

"Whatever he is, he's helping us. In a way that nobody else can."

"How does the boy know about all this?" asked Severus, staring in surprise at Harry.

"Perhaps Dumbledore trusted 'im with yer secrets…and his own…more than you think," said Hagrid.

He stared at the three in the woods, feeling a sudden pang of regret that he had not done more to help them. Though only the Weasley seemed ill, all three were thin to the point of emaciation. Hermione's hair was a tangled mess, her face covered in scratches from their journey through the trees and brush. Harry was paler than he'd ever seen him, including the first day of classes where he'd seemed so scared and unsure. He wore a silver locket around his chest, one that he recognized immediately. The horcrux.

"Tell me," asked Severus. "Surely you know…what becomes of them?"

"I can only tell yeh what happens in the here an' now," said Hagrid, patting him on the back. "Budge up now. I got one more thing fer yeh to see before Yet to Come gets 'is mitts on yeh."

They apparated once more, this time landing at the center of what looked like an abandoned Knockturn Alley. "What are we doing here?" he asked.

"I have shown you a lot, and I know it's a bit to take in. But yeh got to see one more thing before I let you go. In this present man has given birth to two children…an yeh see, s'long as they live I'm their caretaker iffen yeh will." Hagrid pulled his robe open to reveal two small children clutched around his legs. They were pale and emaciated, their skin clinging to their bones and their eyes sunken deeply back beneath long, greasy hair.

They stepped forward. "The boy is intolerance," said Hagrid, "and the girl here is Cowardice." Severus stared in horror at the children. They crept closer and closer to him and he suddenly more than anything feared their touch. He began to scream as they attached themselves to him, and then his eyes opened to the chiming of the final bell, and to the cloaked figure that now stood waiting at the foot of his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Yuletide Carol**

**Chapter Four: Christmas Yet To Come**

"Spirit, what do you want of me?"

The cloaked figure stood at the head of his head, unmoving and still as a statue. Severus felt a chill go up his spine and was suddenly afraid, more so than he could ever remember being in his entire life. It beckoned with one slender, pale hand. Cautiously Severus got up from his bed and went over to it.

"I am to go with you then? To see the future?"

The spirit bowed it's head, extending it's sheathed arm toward him. He took it, and immediately the pair were hurtled as if into a great distance. He shut his eyes tight, only opening them when he was certain he'd touched on solid ground again.

He began to speak but the spirit was already walking away from him. "Where are we?" he demanded. "Why are we here?"

The spirit paused, the dark shadows of it's hood the only thing he saw as it turned back to stare at him. It then continued walking.

"Can't you speak?" he asked. The spirit said nothing, and with his heart racing Severus fell in pace behind it. They rose over a tall rise and came to face a smoldering wreck of a building. Snape only recognized it from the time he had spent with the Order. It was the Burrow, home of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

But it was no home now. The place was torn to pieces, only a meager piece of the house remaining. It was to here that they fled, where inside Molly Weasley had laid out a simple feast for her children. Hermione and Ron were seated at the table. From the last time he had seen him Ron didn't seem to have recovered much though he had aged more than four years. His eyes were shadowed and he was pale.

"Shall we say Grace?" said Hermione. She reached out and took the hand of Ron and another of the Weasley brothers, the one who had used to be a twin. He was alone now, and apart from he and Ron there was only one other brother and the youngest sister.

Everybody bowed their head. "We are thankful that we have made it another year," said Hermione, "and that we have another year to fight You-Know-Who," she said simply.

"I hope," said Ginny bitterly. He eyes were red from crying. Everybody looked up at her but nobody said anything or offered her comfort. When they commenced with their dinner she looked down at her plate, sniffing miserably. "I don't know why Christmases always make me think about him," she said.

"We all think about him, all the time," said Hermione. "But…yes, I suppose I know what you mean."

"He was always part of our family," said George. "Up to the end. And at Christmas, especially, he was always one of us."

"A toast," said Hermione, brushing glistening tears out of her eyes. "To Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter," they all intoned.

"Is he dead then?" said Severus in astonishment. "So that means that He won? You're bringing me here to show me this? That everything was for nothing?"

The spirit shifted a little, as if considering the matter. Then it began to walk again. Severus lingered for a moment, watching as they small dinner continued without the one they gave their praise too. Finally he took the spirit by the arm, and the two found themselves transported to Hogwarts.

In the center of where the great pathway leading to the entrance had once been there was a massive obelisk. The spirit stopped beside it and gestured for Severus to follow. He made his way over, and realized as he came near that it was a war memorial.

"On this day…May 15th…" he began to read. "All these deaths?" he said. "This can't be right. Spirit…"

Before he could say anything it was again gesturing at the marble. He glanced at the hundreds of names carved there, and within moments found a familiar one. Neville Longbottom. Another moment's searching rounded up Hannah Abbott, and after that the names of the Weasley's that had fallen.

Toward the bottom of the obelisk he found the name of Draco Malfoy. "He…killed?" he said in surprise. "But he was to be protected. I…"

And then he stopped, realizing the shame in what he was about to say. Because above all, Dumbledore had said it was important that Draco remain safe…that were he to surrender at all it be to the side of good and not to evil. And he realized that he must have, somehow, failed in this task.

He would have looked more but the spirit was gesturing him onward. He followed and found himself now in a dark graveyard, not as well tended as that he had seen Harry in but an hour past.

"Can you believe the old man is finally dead?" an old witch cackled, smoking something from a long and twisted pipe.

"Took him long enough. I heard tell they've been waiting for him to die, Death Eaters and all. Never a more unpleasant man than him."

"And a coward too," said her companion, a tall wizard. "He sold out each and every one of the Order after the war. Weasleys were in hiding for years until he sold them out. Heard he got to keep his cushy placement for that one—they were thinkin' of sending him to Azkaban you know."

"Course I know, and he'd have deserved it," said the witch. She blew out a ring of smoke, sighing.

Severus watched them, feeling his heart begin to beat heavily in his chest. "Why do you bring me here? Did nobody mourn this man?" he asked. "What man…what man is this they speak of?"

The spirit led him through a tangle of grasses, toward a dull gray headstone that covered a mound of freshly turned dirt. The parson was just leaving the site—nobody had come to pay respects to the departed. Severus leaned forward, and recoiled in terror when he saw what was written there.

SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE 1960-2024

"No!" he shouted. He backed away quickly. "Why do you show me this? What reason…how?"

As he watched the spirit it's slender hands lifted up to pull back the edges of it's hood. What stared back at him was a face that he had tried not to think of, and had failed to ignore even when darkness was staring him right in the face.

"Lily," he gasped.

"Severus, you needed to know what kind of man you are becoming. And you need to know that only you can stop what you could be. I loved you once Severus, and I still love boy you were. I hope that others may love the sort of man you may be."

She leaned forward and placed both her hands on his, kissing his cheek. Her touch was cool, and when his eyes opened he was once more in his bed—her touch might have been nothing but the wind.

He sat up quickly, moving to the window. The morning sun was rising over a sparkling white wonderland. Without even bothering to change out of his dressing gown Severus darted out of his chambers to the hall outside. He accosted the first boy that came passing his way, a Hufflepuff of twelve or so.

"What day is today?" he asked almost feverishly.

"Today?" said the boy. "Why, it's Christmas Day!" he said.

"Christmas?" he said, and then to the amazement (and fear) of all who saw it, Snape began to laugh. He threw his arms up in the air. "Oh wonderful, joyous day! I haven't missed it! Boy!" he cried out. "You know how to get to the kitchens, do you not?"

"Yes sir," said the boy.

"Tell every house elf to prepare everything they can for a feast tonight! Hogwarts will throw the best Christmas dinner anybody ever saw! And you, here's a galleon for your effort!" he said, digging in the front pocket of his gown and pulling out a piece of gold.

The boy's eyes widened. "Thank you sir!" he cried out, breaking into a run and then stopping when he remembered that he was standing in the hall with his headmaster.

"Go and run boy!" called Severus after him. "The elves need time to get ready!"

And then he darted into his rooms himself, changing as quickly as he could. He wrote a quick memo to Professor McGonagall, which he slipped into her office. He then found Draco, who was with Luna beside the Great Lake.

"Sir?" said Draco, standing as he saw his headmaster coming near.

"My boy!" said Severus. "I come to wish you a Merry Christmas!"

"Sir?" said Draco again. "I…"

"I'm pleased to see you! But less so pleased that I came only to say farewell…and to ask a favor of you."

"A favor, sir?" said Draco.

"Yes. I can't explain more…that is, I'd rather not risk your life with something like this…but…." Severus looked at him then. "I want you to know that it is never right to judge another by their background…by who they are or what they can be. Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded slowly. "Sir…are you…I mean…how do you feel about You-Know-Who?" he asked.

"I feel," said Severus, "that we should do everything we can to make sure that everybody…everybody, understand…has a chance to be what they will."

"Yes, sir," said Draco. A small smile was forming on his face. "I understand."

"So I ask you one favor, Draco…may I please have your wand?"

Draco looked at him for a moment, and without any hesitation he handed it over to Severus. "Thank you…and, though I'm sure it's inconvenient to be without it," he said, "I trust your friend here to take care of you."

And with that he walked to the edge of the grounds, where he disappeared to a point in the woods, miles and miles away. When he got there Harry was standing across from him, at a distance of six feet or so. Severus stared at him for a long moment, and though he looked much like James he found it remarkable how very much his eyes resembled his mothers. "Merry Christmas Harry," he said.

"I believe you also had a visitor last night?" said Harry. Severus nodded.

"I've come to help…in whatever way I can. But first…take this from me, Harry." He extended the wand, Dumbledore's wand now, out in front of him. Harry bowed as he took it from him.

"You're going to need this to defeat the Horcruxes," said Severus, pulling a sword wrapped in cloth from his back.

"Thank you," said Harry, now smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," said Severus. He extended his hand to Harry and they shook.

It was often said after that that Severus Snape, though often a harsh and quiet man, was one of the greatest champions of tolerance among any witch or wizard. His bravery proved him one of the great heroes in the Great War of Hogwarts, and for Harry Potter, who did NOT die, he became a second uncle and great companion through the rest of his life.

And as Harry would say in the dinner that followed that war, and every Christmas after, "God bless us, every one!"


End file.
